


Love Bites (So Do I)

by cassie_p



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassie_p/pseuds/cassie_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s 9:30 am on the Saturday of a long weekend, and there’s a knock at his door, and he doesn’t even need his sense of smell to know it’s Nick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Bites (So Do I)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yaoiza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaoiza/gifts).



> As I am completely shameless, this fic is named after a Halestorm song of the same title.
> 
> Seriously. No shame.
> 
> But at least 75% of the blame can be placed on the lovely yaoiza, who hasn't posted anything yet because she's lameeeeeeeeeee.

It’s 9:30 am on the Saturday of a long weekend, and there’s a knock at his door, and he doesn’t even need his sense of smell to know it’s Nick.

He’s the only one who comes by with any degree of regularity.

“I should get you a key,” he shouts, but he doesn’t stand from his chair.

“Let me in, Monroe,” Nick says patiently, and the door sags when he rests his weight against it.  He raps his knuckles against the door with less urgency.

Monroe sighs and pulls himself up from his chair.  Nick is there for one of two reasons, and Monroe really wanted to spend his weekend in peace, with no police cases to deal with.

As for the other reason, he was always up for that.

He walks to the door and then waits.

“C’mon, Monroe,” Nick yells, and taps the door with the toe of his boot. “I heard you walk to the door, asshole.  I know you’re right there.”

Monroe smirks to himself and leans his forehead against the wood. “Why should I open the door if I don’t know who’s there?” he shouts through the crack.

He hears Nick laugh and then it cuts off, like he forced himself to regain his composure.  Monroe lets a smile creep onto his face, that small, impish smile he always seems to have and hide when he’s around Nick.

“It’s Detective Nick Burkhardt of the Portland police department, Mr. Monroe,” Nick says gruffly.  Monroe can imagine the faux-stern look on Nick’s face and he chuckles as quietly as he can muster.

He unlocks the door with a snick and it straightens in its frame. He pulls the door open to Nick’s face, blown wide with a grin.

He steps back and holds his arm out.  “Come on in, then, officer.”

Nick rolls his eyes and walks into the living room like he owns it.

(Which, at this point, he might as well.)

Monroe closes the door but doesn’t bother to lock it; he figures he’ll be leaving again soon.  “What’s the case this time?” he says, circling the table to get to his chair while he still can.

Nick intercepts him on the way there, grabbing his sleeve and tugging, so they’re turned face to face.

“Juliette’s out of town,” he says, and Monroe is too busy feeling the heat of Nick’s fingers to fully register what he said.

“What?” Monroe asks eventually, eyes snapping up to meet Nick’s. Nick’s grin is stretching his facial muscles to capacity, he bets.

“Juliette is out of town,” Nick repeats, his voice slow and soft. His fingers trail up Monroe’s greyscale plaid sleeve and he inches closer.  He lowers his eyes to Monroe’s chest, watching the evidence of his breaths quickening.  “Some sort of…” Nick pauses and puts his other hand on Monroe’s hip, swiping his thumb over the top of his pants, just barely touching his shirt. “…girls’ weekend?”

Nick’s eyes flick up to Monroe’s mouth.  His bottom lip is flush red and slightly pouted.

Monroe blinks back his daze and barks out a laugh.  He winds his arms around Nick’s waist, threading his fingers together on the small of Nick’s back.

“She won’t be back until Tuesday night.”  Nick leans even closer.

“Why don’t you ever come over just to say hello?” Monroe asks bitchily, though the smile on his face gentles his tone to the dull-edged banter of lovers.

Nick looks directly into Monroe’s eyes and bites his lower lip. “Hi,” he deadpans, and he slams his mouth into Monroe’s with just enough finesse that their noses and teeth don’t collide.  Monroe tugs Nick against him with a muffled growl, sliding his tongue against the lip that ended up between his teeth.

Nick squeezes his eyes shut and breathes a moan into Monroe’s mouth. The combination of the Blutbad’s (still sharp) human teeth and the scratch of the beard against his clean-shaven face makes his blood rush south.  His hand twists up into Monroe’s hair and he pulls the taller man so their mouths slide wetly against each other at just the right angle.  Nick slips his tongue into Monroe’s mouth and then slides it back out, swiping against Monroe’s teeth the way he knows he likes. He thrusts his tongue back in and out, setting up a rhythm that Monroe matches when he starts pressing his hips into Nick’s, their hardening lengths receiving much-needed friction. Nick stifles a whine, deep in his throat, and tries to shove their bodies even closer together.

Monroe pulls back just far enough to breathe and mutters, “Hey.”

Nick erupts with laughter and drops his shaking head to Monroe’s shoulder. “Monroe?” he says, still hiccupping with amusement.

“Yes, Nick?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Monroe snorts and nods.  “Can do,” he replies, but Nick is already occupied nuzzling the place where his beard meets his hairline, and he gets the feeling Nick didn’t hear him.

Nick’s teeth latch onto his earlobe with a slightly more than playful nibble and Monroe goes rock hard faster than you can say “Grimm”.

See, sometimes Nick gets a little rough.  He likes nibbling at boned protrusions like hipbones and collarbones, and digging his (surprisingly sharp) fingernails into fleshier areas. Monroe regularly walks away from their clandestine exchanges with more than a few marks to show from it; the kind of marks that chafe against his shirts every time he gets thrown into a dangerous situation with the Grimm who put them there.

Not that he has any complaints about being marked.  None whatsoever.  It’s just…the (lack of) reciprocation that gets him. And it might just be the Blutbad in him, but he likes seeing bruises bloom on previously unmarred flesh, and welts rise from places where his claws…uh, nails, swiped across skin. And don’t get him wrong; Monroe understands that leaving marks on your secret lover who is, oh yeah, dating a woman is a spectacularly bad idea.  But that doesn’t stop the niggling desire to dig his fingers in just hard enough that his handprint will be visible a day or so later.

Nick’s sharp nip to the edge of his jaw jerks Monroe back into the moment he’s living in, where there is an incredibly attractive man pressing wet kisses to his neck and grinding against his leg.

“We should,” Monroe starts, but he’s cut off by Nick licking a stripe from the hollow of his throat to his chin, right over his Adam’s apple.

Nick keeps his mouth pressed to his neck and glances up at Monroe. “What were you saying, babe? You sort of…” Nick tugs a bit of skin into his mouth and sucks on it.  “Sort of cut off in the middle of a thought right there.”

“Upstairs. Now,” Monroe growls, because his options were suddenly an attempt at eloquence (which was not going to happen with his brain blood occupied elsewhere) and caveman-like grunting (which was a bit too animalistic for his taste—he’s a civilized fucking Wesen, okay), so he ended up somewhere in the middle.

And of course Nick looks up at him with a wicked grin and shrugs with one shoulder.  “I’m okay with staying down here,” he murmurs with a meaningful glance to the wooden table.

Monroe closes his eyes and counts to ten, weighing the pros and cons of fucking on the main room table.  Pros: nakedness faster.  Sex faster. Good memories every time he looks at that table.  Cons: ...

So he falls a little short on cons, but, call Monroe old-fashioned, he still likes having his adulterous, homosexual sex in a real life bed.

He manages to open his eyes and say no without breaking his resolve to wait until there are mattresses, despite Nick’s pleading look and actual attempt at a puppy-dog face.  He doesn’t know how much begging he can take, though, so before Nick can say a word, he lifts Nick by the ass until his shirt is level with Monroe’s eyes.

Monroe glances up to see if Nick is about to hit him, and is greeted with the sight of Nick breathing harder than he does when they’re in the middle of sex, his pupils blown so wide that he looks Geier.  Monroe bites his tongue to stop himself from saying that aloud.

“It would help if you wrapped your legs around me,” Monroe says, instead, and Nick’s legs immediately twine around his middle, lowering him back to eye level.

 _Mental note,_ Monroe thinks.  _Figure out how far this manhandling kink goes._

He presses his lips to Nick’s panting mouth and takes a step towards the stairs, palming Nick’s ass through his loose jeans.  He’s rewarded by an unabashed groan from Nick, who throws his head back and pushes his hips forward into the softness of Monroe’s stomach.

By the time he reaches the bottom step, Nick has latched onto his neck like it’s keeping him alive, sucking bruise after bruise into the skin, from collarbone to earlobe.  He’s not going to be able to hide a single one of these tomorrow.

He clears the staircase in no time at all, his eagerness to reach the bedroom outweighing any and all other desires, including, but not limited to, bending Nick over the nearest available surface, pressing Nick into a wall and fucking him from behind, simply pulling Nick’s pants down and fucking him in midair, or leaving dark purple hickeys all over Nick’s entire body.

Thankfully, he reaches the bedroom, and his soft mattress, before any of those desires could beat out his desire to not bruise his knees on the hard wood of his hallways.

He drops Nick unceremoniously onto the bed, close enough to the headboard that he won’t have to move them again.  Nick’s lips detach from his neck with a pop accompanied by a petulant whine from the loss of contact between them.

Nick’s hands start fumbling for any part of Monroe that he can reach, grazing over his clothed nipples and the surprising strength of his biceps, brushing over his beard and pressing into week-old scratch marks that still sting to the touch.

Monroe catches Nick by the wrists and growls like a Blutbad, not like a human. Nick immediately halts his movements, but his aroused shudder is unmistakable from their close proximity.

“Fuck me,” Nick demands, his pelvis twitching as he tries to inch closer without disobeying Monroe’s implicit request.

Monroe lets go of one of Nick’s wrists to grab a fistful of his hair. “Gladly,” he whispers into the shell of Nick’s ear, and reaches for the hem to Nick’s t-shirt. He manages to pull the shirt and the leather jacket off in one smooth motion, without audibly ripping either one, so he decides his small victory means he’s earned a digression. He presses his mouth to the smooth plane of Nick’s chest, nipping his sternum and then laving kisses on the imprint his teeth left.  It’s not enough to leave a mark, but it’s something.

He drags his mouth slowly from Nick’s chest to his shoulder, blowing hot air over the sensitive bud of his nipple as he goes.  He stops to kiss right above Nick’s heart, feeling the man’s lungs heave and his heart palpitate.  Monroe doesn’t risk a glance to Nick’s face, because he knows the expression there will distract him from his task of slowly unraveling Nick.

Monroe licks the top of Nick’s shoulder from his arm to his neck, feeling gooseflesh rise on Nick’s skin with the path of his tongue.

Nick slams his hips against Monroe’s, shifting himself so that, even through the clothes, Monroe can feel Nick’s cock pressed against his own. Monroe lets a soft moan escape against the crook of Nick’s neck.  He turns his moan into a bite, letting his teeth sink in as far as he dares.

If the whimper Nick lets out in response is anything to go by, Monroe’s self-restraint was just enough.

But, be it for better or for worse, Monroe’s self-control runs out right about then.  He scrabbles for Nick’s pants, tearing the belt open with enough vehemence that his eyes flash red and his arm erupts in a patch of fur.  He gets himself back human before Nick notices, he thinks. Nick’s head is thrown back, and his eyes are shut tight, and he’s practically trembling.

Nick whimpers again, and Monroe mildly thinks that this Grimm will be his undoing before he decides to take pity on him and unbuttons his jeans one-handedly.

(He spent so long perfecting that trick.  He really wants someone to acknowledge it, just once.)

Monroe slips his hand into Nick’s jeans and rubs his hand lightly over the tent in Nick’s boxers.  He applies a little more pressure, just enough friction to feel but not enough to get off on.

Monroe makes the mistake of looking at Nick’s face, then.  Nick’s eyes sear straight through him, his gaze at once imploring and expectant.  He’s biting his lip, again, and Monroe can’t hold back his tiny groan of appreciation for how wrecked Nick looks, already.

Monroe pulls Nick’s pants and boxers down in a jerky set of motions, complicated by Nick’s refusal to lift up off the bed.  Monroe eventually reaches around Nick’s body and pulls his pants down from the back, trailing his fingers down and between Nick’s cheeks as a punishment for making him work.  When Monroe’s fingers pass over his hole, Nick whimpers and pushes back against Monroe’s hand, trying to convince Monroe to do something other than tease him.

Monroe quickly pulls his hand away from Nick’s backside and yanks the jeans down to Nick’s knees.  He smirks when he sees Nick’s erection, thick and blood-purple from arousal.                       

“I think…” Monroe starts, and then he wraps his fingers delicately around the base of Nick’s cock.  “…that you’re a little bit excited,” Monroe finishes, tightening his hand and sliding up the considerable length, pausing at the tip to wipe at a beaded drop of precum. He tries to resist the urge to bring his thumb to his mouth, but when he realizes that Nick has fixated on his finger, he figures no harm can come of his indulgence.  He lifts his thumb to his tongue at a tortuously slow pace, watching Nick’s eyes follow the movement until Monroe’s tongue wraps around the salty sweet taste of his lover’s desire for him.  “Definitely excited,” Monroe rasps.

Nick is trembling in place, his eyes open wide and his teeth sunk firmly into his bottom lip.  “Monroe,” he pants, his arms shaking as he tries to keep his torso vertical.

“Yes?” Monroe says, smirking as he grips the base of Nick’s cock.

“Please.”

Monroe pumps his hand along Nick’s shaft.

“Please, what, Nick?  I need some specificity here, or you’re never going to get what you want,” Monroe teases.  Nick tries to buck up into the friction of Monroe’s hand, but he curls his free hand over Nick’s bony hip and squeezes, pinning his lower half to the mattress.

“Fuck me, dammit,” Nick yells, struggling to hump Monroe.

Monroe rips his jeans the rest of the way off of Nick’s body and pulls his legs apart, settling in the juncture of his thighs.

“I’m getting there, Burkhardt, calm down,” Monroe says.

Nick groans in frustration.  “How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when I am naked and completely at your mercy while you’re still _completely clothed_?”

Monroe chuckles and clasps Nick’s pale thighs, squeezing until marks bloom red in the shape of his fingers.

“Patience, young Grimm,” Monroe mutters, and slings Nick’s leg over his shoulder. He bends towards Nick’s lower body.

“I’m going to fucking kil—“

Nick abruptly cuts himself off when Monroe’s tongue makes contact with the tip of his cock.  Monroe licks from tip to base and then pulls back.

“What were you saying, Nick?” he asks sweetly, a wicked smirk growing on his bearded face.

Nick settles for a venomous glare and refuses to say a word.

Monroe feels his own arousal well up and settle in the pit of his stomach. He lowers his mouth to Nick’s balls and sucks one into his mouth, moaning at the salty taste.

“Monroe,” Nick whines.  “Please.”

Monroe releases Nick’s ball and drops his mouth even lower, until his tongue is next to Nick’s entrance.

“Please what?” He breathes the question across Nick’s oversensitive skin.

“Fuck me, goddammit,” Nick snaps, biting off each syllable before it devolves into a moan.

Monroe touches the tip of his tongue to Nick’s pucker and licks as lightly as he can.

“Oh fuck, do that again.”  Nick’s hips fly off of the bed, pushing Monroe’s tongue even further inside him.

Monroe obliges, slipping his tongue in and out of Nick at as slow a pace as he can manage, with Nick’s wild thrusting interrupting his rhythm.

“Monroe,” Nick whines, dragging out the vowels until the word is unrecognizable as his name.

Monroe pulls away.  “I could respond, but I thought you liked where my mouth was before.”

“If you don’t want me to come literally right now, you should get to the actual fucking me part.”

Monroe looks up to Nick’s flushed cheeks and wild eyes and figures he might as well skip to the really, really fun part.  He reaches for the lube in the drawer without responding to Nick.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Nick mutters triumphantly.  “Want me on my stomach or my back?”

“Back,” Monroe responds immediately.  “I want to see your face when you come.”  He slicks up a finger and slides it inside Nick without warning.

Nick whimpers and arches his back.  “Yeah, no time for that.  I prepped earlier anyways.”

Monroe’s hand stills inside Nick.  “You prepped earlier?”

“Yeah, well, I was hoping for a fuck on the living room table. I don’t think you keep lube down there.”  Nick smiled, and his sweaty bangs fell over his lively eyes and Monroe starts swearing as he trips over himself in his haste to get his pants off.  He settles for just shimmying them down over his ass, so his cock bounces free of his clothes.

“Fuck,” Nick moans, and he slides down the bed so his ass brushes against Monroe’s dick.

Monroe doesn’t whimper.  Definitely doesn’t whimper.  He growls. Like a man.  Like a wolf.  It was a manly wolf growl.  Not a whimper.  No matter what Nick may claim, it was a very deep, manly growl thing.

Nick snickers.

Monroe growls.

Nick fakes contrition.

Monroe rolls his eyes and slides inside his Grimm lover (and, goddamn, do his ancestors cringe every time he thinks that).

They build up a rhythm, a perfect push and pull and meeting of their hips. From the first time, they simply worked in sync.

Nick twines his hands around Monroe’s neck and kisses him, once, on the lips, before he throws himself back on the pillows and leaves himself open for observation.

Monroe looks at the pale flush over Nick’s whole body, the sweat beading over his thick skin with the most delicate hair, and he wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into him—watch blood well to the surface and then lick it off his body, until their blood has mingled together in binding and unchangeable way. He wants Nick to bite him hard enough that he bleeds too—he wants his handprint to stay, purple, on Nick’s hipbone for the rest of time.  He wants—

“Monroe,” Nick says suddenly, and his voice is startlingly clear, for how wrecked he looks.

Nick tilts his head back, baring his neck.  Monroe feels a growl well up inside his chest but he clamps down on the urge to lunge forward and _claim_.

“Nick, what are you doing?” he asks, and the words come out choppy and tight. Nick has to know that he’s fighting to control himself, now, and he feels shame wash over him. He falters in his thrusting.

Nick immediately picks up the pace of his reciprocal thrusts. “Monroe, I want you to bite me. I want to be covered in marks—bruises and scratches and hickeys.”  Nick’s breath catches, just from the thought.

And this is everything Monroe wants, everything he has never wanted before, but now, now with Nick this is exactly what he _needs_ but…something stops him and even he marvels at his self-control.

He takes a deep breath and he forces the wolf down and then his superego takes control and he remembers why he’s not allowed to have what he is being offered.

“Juliette,” Monroe sighs on his next exhale and then his muscles tighten and he waits for the reaction.  He’s pretty sure that mentioning your lover’s girlfriend mid-sex is a faux pas worthy of facial punching.  Or at least not finishing having sex.  He expects Nick to shove him off and leave, or at least give him a glare and tell him never to open his stupid, selfish mouth again.  Even this much of Nick is enough, he thinks, and he waits for Nick to punch him.

Instead. Instead, Nick opens his mouth, and he begs, “Juliette will be gone for days, Monroe.  She’ll never know.  Please, just fucking bite me.”  His face changes from a pleading expression to and invitational one. “Mark your territory, Blutbad.”

Monroe lets the growl escape, then, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t have stopped himself—he pulls Nick’s arms out from under him so that he has no leverage. He slams himself into Nick as quickly as he can, and he finally— _finally_ —lowers his teeth to Nick’s pale, stubbled flesh and sucks in a bruise that will last for weeks.

Nick’s moans have changed to screams, and Monroe hopes the neighbors don’t call the cops again.  Because while that conversation was funny in hindsight (Nick’s friend Sergeant Wu showing up in the middle of the night and politely asking why the neighbors thought someone was being murdered, and also why the fuck was Nick there in only his boxers?), it wasn’t one that he wanted to have again.

He moves his mouth to Nick’s collarbone, in the interest of quieting him down.  If anything, it only makes him scream louder.  Monroe resigns himself to another midnight visit from the cops and makes sure he hits Nick’s prostate on every thrust.

Nick’s screaming has devolved into incoherent babbling, which Monroe doesn’t even try to decipher.  Nick screams one final time, and Monroe feels wetness seep across his stomach. Nick goes limp in his arms and he slams into even faster.  He feels the wolf flutter just under the surface of his skin, and he knows his eyes are blood red.  He puts his mouth back on Nick’s neck and sinks in one final hickey right at the base of his neck.

He goes as deep as he can into Nick, then pulls almost all the way out, and then slams himself back in as fast as he can, and that’s enough to put him over the edge.  Right as he comes, Monroe feels his canines inch out as he vision goes white with pleasure.

Once he’s returned to himself from Orgasm Land, he leaps up off of Nick and starts swearing like a sailor. Monroe makes the mistake of looking at Nick’s face, which is lit up with amusement.

“Shit, shit, _shit_.  Nick, that could have been really bad,” Monroe says. Monroe steps off of the bed and starts pacing.

Nick shakes his head and his face reads humoured disbelief. “Nah, it’s fine.”

“Nick, my canines slipped out.  That could have been awful.” Monroe tries not to panic, but he doesn’t think it’s working. “Did it not occur to you that inviting a Blutbad to bite you with the exact words ‘Mark your territory’ might have unforeseen consequences?”

“No, it wouldn’t have,” Nick says firmly.

“No, Nick, you don’t understand.  It’s part of the Blutbad mating ritual.  A bite to—“

“The juncture of the neck and shoulder,” Nick interrupts.  “Specifically with your Blutbad teeth. If I were Blutbad too, there would usually be a reciprocated bite to the same place,” he continues. “The second part of the ritual involves woging a bit and knotting inside me.”

Monroe’s jaw goes slack and he stops pacing at the end of the bed.

“Monroe, I _know_.  I looked it up as soon as we started this,” Nick says casually.  


Monroe blinks and looks from side to side.  Nick chuckles quietly and lifts himself from the bed to kneel in front of where Monroe is standing.  He throws his arms around Monroe’s neck and presses their foreheads together.

“I want you to bond with me,” Nick states, looking right into Monroe’s eyes.

Monroe chews his lip and looks worried.

“Nick, that’s an awful idea,” he says, finally.

Nick laughs with his entire body.  “Why?” he asks, somewhere between disbelief and condescending amusement.

“Because Wesen would be able to smell it on you,” Monroe says, like it should be obvious.  “You know, when they woge out and you can see their faces?  They can smell that you’re a Grimm.  And I think the added stench of ‘Eau de Blutbad Mate’ would just complicate matters.”

“Or, it would help me,” Nick retorts.  “Most Wesen are terrified that I’m going to shoot them or decapitate them because of my bloodline.  They don’t even give me a chance to explain before they’re running away or cowering in corners.”  Nick leans closer to Monroe and licks behind his ear.  “But if they also smelled that I had a deep, emotional connection with someone of their world?  They might be a little more willing to give me the time of day.”

Nick leans back and smiles at Monroe.  “I already thought about this, Monroe.  I want this.”  He worms his hand into Monroe’s hair and tugs gently. “And I’m pretty sure that you do too.”

“Uh, Nick?  I think you’re missing something rather vitally important.” 

Nick raises his eyebrow.

“Juliette? Your girlfriend?” Monroe says.

Nick shrugs.  “She’s fine.”

Monroe blinks in confusion.

“She’ll be fine with it,” Nick elaborates.

“Your girlfriend will be okay with you essentially marrying a male Wesen?”

“Yeah.” Nick laughs.  “Monroe, she already knows that we’ve been together.”

“What?” Monroe yelps.

“Yeah. Me and her have this agreement—if either one of us want someone else, we can go for it.  As long as there’s full disclosure, it’s cool.” Nick laughs again. “Did you really think she wouldn’t have figured us out after all this time?”

Monroe glares at Nick.  “All this time, I was expecting her to show up on my front step with a shotgun and threaten my life for defiling her boyfriend!”

Nick collapses onto Monroe’s shoulder, shaking with his giggles.

“I hate you,” Monroe mumbles.

“No, you don’t,” Nick says into his shoulder.

“No, I don’t,” Monroe concedes.  He leans down to kiss Nick’s neck.  “I really, really don’t.”

“Good!” Nick jumps up from Monroe’s shoulder and throws himself back against the pillows, pulling Monroe down over top of him.  “You should bond with me now.”

“Nick…” Monroe begins, with hesitation in his voice.

“Look,” Nick interrupts.  “Monroe. I love you.  I want to have this with you.  I want to be your mate.  I want to be _yours_.”

Monroe swallows his planned words past the lump in his throat.           

“And I know that you want me too,” Nick continues.  Nick leans up and presses a close-mouthed kiss against Monroe’s mouth.  “Take a leap of faith, Blutbad,” Nick teases.

Monroe growls and slams their mouths back together.

“If you regret this, I will fucking murder you, Grimm,” Monroe threatens.

“I would expect no less of you.”           

They both smile into their next kiss.


End file.
